


Highever

by The Jingo (The_King_in_White)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 01:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14706249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_King_in_White/pseuds/The%20Jingo
Summary: Fergus Cousland remains in Highever with the rest of the troops as Bryce Cousland leads the main force to Ostagar. Howe's treachery destroys the Heir and his family. Bryce's second son escapes Castle Cousland in search of power and vengeance.





	Highever

**Author's Note:**

> "Brave of you sir, to so  
> openly cast an envious eye  
> towards me and mine.  
> I suggest you look elsewhere,  
> lest I consider removing your sight in a more  
> permanent fashion."

Fire crackled in the hearth, throwing rosy light over gleaming iron buckles and the burnished steel of well polished sword pommels. A bear's snarling head loomed over the grate; a twin to the roaming ursine herald of House Howe, an ancient provocation spanning generations between Highever and Amaranthine.

"I am sorry, old friend." Arl Rendon Howe murmured, inclining his head to the Lord of the castle. "Our troops have been delayed. I hope that it is not too much of an imposition if I could avail myself of your generosity for a night?"

Bryce Cousland laughed warmly, waving a hand off in the direction of the rest of the estate. "Oh, do make yourself at home Rendon." Red firelight danced in his eyes as he gave a quick smile to his old comrade. "The estate is open to you, as it always has been. And don't be such a stiff-necked old man!" The Teyrn clapped the Arl on the shoulder.

Then the joviality faded as the Lord wrapped himself back up in the expectations of his office. Gesturing at his eldest son, Bryce continued "I'll leave Fergus in charge here while I lead the troops down to Ostagar. He'll come along with you tomorrow with the rest of the men. It'll be just like old times."

Frowning in disappointment, Rendon shrugged his finely clothed shoulders, gold threads catching light. "True. Though we both had less gray in our hair back then." he answered flatly, belying the joke with a serious tone.

Bryce was unable to hold back the sharp bark of laughter that rose in his throat. "Less gray indeed!"

Sobering with a look at his fidgeting son, the Teyrn thinned his lips. "And back in those days we fought Orlesians... not _monsters_."

"At least the smell will be the same." the Arl countered dryly, and Bryce grinned.

Metal buckles jingled as Hadrian shifted from one foot to the other, and the Lord blinked at his second son, who stood slightly off behind one of the benches, unsure as to his place in a possible war council. "Oh sorry pup! I didn't see you there." Gray-blue eyes shifted over to Howe as he motioned the young man over. "I'm sure you remember my son, Rendon?"

Opening with a complimenting "I see that he's grown into a fine young man", Rendon Howe ran a considering eye over Hadrian, taking in estimates of training in an experienced glance. The boy was salle-trained without a doubt, but the adherence to pure form gave away the lack of real battle experience. A few true battles would work in more flexibility into the second son's form.

Not that the Arl of Amaranthine had any intentions of permitting him to survive long enough to get any sort of experience.

"Pleased to see you again lad." the old rogue finished.

Hadrian smiled, unsure of how formal or informal he should be with an old friend of his father, but one he saw only rarely and had only spoken more than greetings to on the rare occasion. "And you, Arl Howe." he decided on formal neutrality.

His father's grayed eyebrows pinched at the expected distance his son was showing. He'd have to speak to Hadrian later and inform the boy to make more of an effort to cultivate a relationship with the man who was very likely to be his future father-in-law.

"My daughter Delilah has been asking after you. Perhaps I should bring her next time." The implication was obvious.

Grinning uneasily, Hadrian ran a nervous hand through his inky mane, midnight strands clinging to his fingertips. A few replies sprung to his mind. But he would not feign stupidity, and he could not afford to give the Arl offense. So there was only one reply to be made.

"I'd like that." he answered softly, ignoring the beaming look his father gave him.

"Oh? _Good_." Howe's purr was predatory. The wolfish smirk that curled over Rendon's lips was vaguely discomforting. "She goes on and on about your prowess as a warrior. I think you have an admirer, young man."

"Oh stop teasing the boy." Bryce chuckled, before fixing a hard stare on his son. "In any case pup, I summoned you for a reason. I'm leaving you in charge of the castle."

Hadrian shot a gray stare at his father. "What about Fergus? He's the heir."

"Be that as it may, he's marching off tomorrow to join me in the field. And while I'm certain you would more than prove yourself in battle, there must be a Cousland in the Castle. And besides," the Teyrn added wryly, "I'm not willing to deal with your mother if both of you join the war."

"Eleanor would murder you in your sleep if you brought the boy along." Rendon agreed, voice full of dry amusement. "Knowing your wife Bryce, she's already twisted up over you going and bringing your oldest boy along."

"Very well." Hadrian sighed. "I'll do what you think is best."

Bryce relaxed, seriousness melting away. "Well. Now that's what I like to hear pup. There will only be a token force left here and you must keep peace in Highever. You know what they say about mice when the catcher is away."

Turning on the spot, the Teyrn tossed a command over his shoulder. "Come, there's also someone you must meet."

Hadrian fell into step behind his father, striding after the older man across the stone hall. With a shrug, Howe trailed after the pair.

The trio came to a stop in front of a bearded man, the middle-aged stranger's face lined with the care of stressful years. "It is an honour to be a guest in your hall, Teyrn Cousland." the dark haired stranger called out as they approached.

Recognition flashed over the Arl's face, and he blinked in surprise at the Lord of the Castle. "Bryce, this is..." Twisting his mouth in displeasure, Rendon's voice grew slightly accusatory. "You didn't mention that a Gray Warden would be present."

"Duncan arrived just recently – unannounced." Bryce murmured, pinning the Arl with a flashing look of warning. "Is there a problem?"

The lesser lord backtracked hurriedly, tone growing oily and overly polite. "Of course not. But a guest of this stature requires certain... protocol. I am at a disadvantage."

"We rarely have the honour of meeting one in person, it's true." the displeasure seeped out of Bryce's finery clad form. "Pup, Brother Aldous taught you who the Gray Warden's are, I hope?"

"They're an order of great warriors who defeated the darkspawn long ago." the second son intoned with a sing-song air, swallowing back the last part he'd been taught. That the Gray Warden's were a small order, and no long important. It wouldn't do to say such a thing to a Gray Warden's face.

"Indeed." His father gestured towards the worn warrior. "Duncan is looking for recruits to join his order before he comes to join us and his fellow Wardens in the south. I believe he's got his eye on Ser Gilmore."

Duncan had been staring at Hadrian with the same considering look that Rendon Howe had examined him with, and with a nod of decision the Warden stepped into the conversation. "Well, if I might be so bold, I'd suggest that your son is also an excellent candidate."

The look the Teyrn gave the Warden was chill as the breath of winter, threat written into every movement as he turned to face Duncan and set a hand on his son's shoulder. "Honour though that may be, this is one of my sons we're talking about."

"Is there a reason I shouldn't join them?" the question was innocent enough, but it gave voice to the long held desire that curled within Hadrian's heart. The drive to prove he was just as good as his brother and stand outside Fergus' shadow. To be more than just the spare.

"You did just finish saying that Gray Wardens are heroes old friend." the Arl interjected, unable to completely hold back his instincive thirst for cruelty.

Bryce continued to stare at the Warden even as he riposted to the remark. "I've not so many children that I'd gladly see them all off to battle. Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription?" He sent the last at the Warden Commander.

"Have no fear. " Duncan assured the estate's Lord, tracking his measuring gaze away from Hadrian and pinning it on the boy's father. "While it's true that we need as many good recruits as we can find, I've no intention of forcing the issue."

Bryce nodded and turned to face his son, good mood ruined by the small confrontation. "Pup, I'll need you to see to Duncan's requests while I'm gone."

"Of course."

"Good." the Teyrn clapped his hands. "In the meantime, go and find your mother and see if she needs your hand with anything. I've got some thing to discuss with Fergus and Rendon."

Burying the feeling of being gotten rid of, the dark haired boy nodded. "And where is mother?"

"Upstairs in her chambers no doubt. Now be a good lad and do as I've asked, we'll talk soon."

Spinning on his heel, Bryce stalked back across the hall to converse with his elder son. Giving one last considering look at Hadrian, Rendon followed.

Duncan nodded respectfully at the young Lordling, turning to follow the others.

Long-buried ambition bubbled up in Hadrian's chest, spurning him into action."Wait!"

"I believe your father would like to speak to Arl Howe and myself alone." Duncan told him curtly, but not unkindly, as the Warden stepped away.

"Just..." Desperation and pride warred after being so easily dismissed. "Just one question!"

"Very well." the older man agreed, turning back, "I doubt your father would mind a slight delay."

Hadrian searched Duncan's craggy face. "Would you really recruit me into the Gray Wardens?"

"Of course." the Warden Commander answered, and the considering look returned to his face. "You're young, skilled, and eager for battle. The Wardens do not recruit just anyone if we can help, it, and it is not baseless flattery when I say that you would be an excellent recruit."

"Then take me with you." Hadrian pleaded, determined to seize his chance at making his own story.

"I cannot," and the gaze the old man gave Hadrian was full of understanding and pity. And Hadrian hated that pity, just like he hated Duncan's answer. "Our order is too small in Ferelden, and I can hardly afford to make us powerful enemies amoung Ferelden's nobility, like the Teyrn of Highever. It is tempting to take you with me, but I will content myself with whatever else your father offers."

The second son stared at the floor, downcast with disappointment and yearning. "I'll... leave you alone, then."

"Until we speak again." Duncan agreed, and with a last nod Hadrian fled the hall.

* * *

Stepping out into the warm spring sunlight, Hadrian breathed a sigh of mingled relief and sadness. He truly loved his family, from his Lord Father to his young nephew, but sometimes he found it stifling or worse to be bound up in the expectations of being a Lord's son and the lack of expectation that came with being the spare. Even less needed after the birth of his nephew.

The faint smell of the sea on the clearest of days was one of the many scents of home, but that moment, it reeked of distant freedom. Just around the corner.

Shaking his head with a maudlin smirk, the dark haired lordling laughed aloud to himself. "Can't be laying about and getting all philosophical now can I?" Turning with a creak of leather armour, Hadrian jogged off around the corner and followed the familiar winding of the castle from the front gates to the back of the estate.

Almost automatically, the second son of the Teyrn detoured off into a side passage and threw open the door to the alcove of treasury room, startling the pair of lounging cards that were assigned to guard the entrnace of the Cousland vault.

One of the soldiers shoot hurriedly to his feet, attempting to hide something behind his back even as he addressed Hadrian. "My Lord! We were just... ahh..."

"Playing cards?" the raven lordling drawled, raising an eyebrow and sending the sputtering guard into a flush.

"Well... the treasury's safe... I'm not even sure why the Teyrn stationed us here..." the man offered feebly.

Shrugging with an easy smile, Hadrian brushed him off. "Don't worry about it, men. I won't say anything. Though I can't be held responsible if someone else comes across you two." the young man warned.

The other guardsman rose to his feet with a salute. "We appreciate that milord... thank you for your lenience."

"It was no trouble."

Leaving the two roused soldiers behind, Hadrian smirked with easy confidence. A twin victory of winning the pair's good will and pushing them back to duty with the threat of discovery.

Hadrian was still lost in thought when he turned the corner and walked into a suit of red steel armour. Stumbling backwards with an apology, the Teyrn's second son accepted the outstretched red gauntlet to steady himself.

"There you are." the red haired man he'd run into offered cheerfully. "Your mother told me the teyrn had summoned you, so I didn't want to interrupt."

"Hello to you too, Ser Gilmore." Hadrian greeted back.

Ser Gilmore eyed the area around them with the instinctive consideration of a skilled soldier even as he laughed. "I've been trying to get a hold of you all afternoon. That hound of your's has the whole kitchen in an uproar. Nan is threatening to leave."

Rolling his eyes, Hadrian shook his head. "Nan is always like that. But she was my nanny before she was the cook, and she won't leave. Did the dog get into the larder again?"

"Was there any doubt?" Ser Gilmore shot back. "No matter how hard the kitchen staff try to keep him out, he always finds a way in. Mabari only listen to their masters, so they can hardly get him out once he's in if they want to keep both arms."

Hadrian snorted. "He knows better than to hurt anyone, but I guess I should go collect him. To the kitchens then."

"Just follow the yelling!" the redhead called after him as the lordling stalked off to settle another matter before meeting his mother. If he kept getting sidetracked, his father would surely tear a strip out of his hide.

The first thing Hadrian heard upon entering the kitchen was the barking of his Mabari hound. The second was the warning growl nan made as she eyed him. "Get that bloody mutt out of the larder. If I can't get into that larder I'll skin your hide."

"But mistress..." one of the elf servants protested, before snapping her mouth shut at the foul glare the elderly woman sent her.

"Not you. _Him_." she punctated with an accusing finger at Hadrian. "Your bloody mongrel keeps getting into my larder. That beast ought to be put down."

Coal eyebrows rose in sarcastic amusement. "He's not a mongrel, he's a pureblood mabari."

"A blight wolf is what he is." Nan snorted with disdain. "How am I supposed to work like this?" Scowling with displeasure, she threw up her hands. "In fact, I'm not going to work like that. I quit. Inform the teyrn that I'm going to work at some nice, _dogless_ estate in the bannorn."

Patting her shoulder with a leather-clad hand, Hadrian laughed. "Oh relax Nan. I'll get the dog out of the larder. And besides," the lordling added as he pushed past to the door. "Any lord in the Bannorn is going to have heaps and heaps of Mabari."

"Oh for the love of the Maker." Nan sighed before snapping her fingers at the two elvish servants lurking silently beside her. "You two! Stop standing there like idiots and get to work. I've got enough to do around here with a castle full of hungry servants to feed."

Throwing open the larder with a bang, Hadrian blinked at the sight of his Mabari hound growling a a pile of sacks in a corner.

The Mabari wheeled about, wagging his tail at his owner and barking with excitement.

"Are you... trying to tell me something, boy?" Hadrian asked uncertainly, casting his eye back at the innocuous sacks.

Bran barked again with approval, throwing himself in an energetic circle before turning to growl more at the pile. The pile squeaked back before a mass of great, filthy rats poured forth and fled in every direction.

Retching in disgust, Hadrian yanked his sword from its sheathe on his back and joined his dog in hunting down the vermin, stabbing and stomping until the last rat died with an anguished shriek.

"Well aren't you clever." he muttered to the hound, who licked his chops in satisfaction.

Wiping the blade free of blood with the end of one of the empty hemp sack the rats had nested in, Hadrian slid the slid the sword home and shuddered involuntary. Rats were dirty critters that carried plague and disease, and to have them in his larder...

The lordling retched again before stepping back out with the hound on his heels.

"Everything unsealed must be thrown out." Hadrian informed Nan curtly. "A pack of rats got into the food. No telling what here can be kept, save the barrels that are totally sealed."

" _Rats_!" the elf girl shrieked. "Great filthy rats! They'll rip you to shreds they will."

Nan merely glared at him again. "See? Now you've gone and scared the servants. I expect those filthy things are dead at least."

"Oh yes." Hadrian scratched Bran behind the ears. "My faithful war hound made sure it's safe."

* * *

"And my dear Bryce brought this back from Orlais last year." Teyrna Eleanor gossiped, showing off a glittering gem on her throat. Creaking leather drew her attention, and she arched auburn brows. "Ah, here is my younger son. I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound of your's that the situation in the kitchen is handled?"

"Oh yes." Hadrian snarked. "Nan's head exploded and my hound ate the kitchen staff."

Eleanor didn't even twitch as she stared down her nose at said hound. "Well at least one of us will have had a decent dinner. Perhaps your hound is something I can feed my guests with."

Rolling her eyes at her son, the Teyrna motioned to her companion. "Dear son, I'm sure you remember Lady Landra. Bann Loren's wife?"

"I think we last met at your mother's spring salon." Lady Landra offered with a warm smile.

Hadrian smiled back and swept into a bow to press a kiss along the Lady's knuckles. "Of course. It is good to see you again, my lady."

"You're too kind, dear boy." the graying woman giggled. "This reminds me of half the salon shamelessly flirting with you. I included."

"And in front of your family too." a young red haired man muttered, glaring at the Teyrn's son.

Landra gave her son a warning look before beaming back at Hadrian. "I believe that you've met my son, Dairren? I understand you sparred with him in the last tourney."

The affected affront washed away from Dairren's face to be replaced with a wry grin. "And you beat me handily, as I recall. It's good to see you again, my lord."

"You're being too modest." Hadrian deflected gracefully. "You fought very well."

Motioning to the last individual of the group, Lady Landra introduced her. "And this is my lady-in-waiting, Iona."

The blue eyed blond stared at Hadrian in flushed silence until Leandra prompted her with a drawl. "Oh, do say something dear."

"It is a great honour my lord." Iona breathed with a blush. "I have heard many wonderful things about you."

Leaning over to the Teyrna with an cocked eyebrow, Landra sighed in a stage whisper. "Don't look now Eleanor, but I do believe that the girl has a crush on your boy."

"Lady Landra!" hissed the blonde.

"Hush Landra." Eleanor chuckled. "You'll turn the poor thing scarlet."

"Perhaps we should speak alone sometime, Iona?" the Teyrn's son offered with a smirk.

The girl flushed. "As it pleases you, my lord."

An obviously amused Lady Landra cut in. "Well my dear Eleanor, I believe perhaps I shall rest now. Dairren, I shall see you and Iona at supper."

"Perhaps we will retire to the study for now." Bann Loren's son decided, sending a wink at Hadrian, before stalking off with Iona.

"Good evening, your lordship." Landra departed with a curtsy, leaving Hadrian alone with his mother.

"You ought to say goodbye to your father while you have the chance." Eleanor advised as soon as the others were ought of earshot.

"Did you know there's a Gray Warden here?" the lordling cut in, blue-gray eyes alight.

"Yes, your father mentioned it." Pinning her son with a shrewd gaze, Eleanor tilted her head. "You haven't gotten it into your head that you want to be recruited?"

"Father wouldn't allow it." he sulked.

"Nor I. And I realize you didn't answer the question. There's enough here at the castle to occupy you. I don't need you off chasing danger like your brother."

"Are you staying here?" Hadrian shifted the topic. And with a frown, Eleanor allowed him to.

"For a few days. Then I'm off to spend some time with Lady Landra at her estate. Your father believes that my being here will undermine your authority over the castle."

Shrugging nonchalantly, Hadrian gazed back the way he'd come. "As you wish."

"Good. I was worried you might be nervous about running the castle alone. I needn't have been concerned. And you should go see your father."

"I should."

* * *

Light shone off the tips of spears, casting silver across the courtyard. The laurel wreath banner of the Couslands flapped in the wind as the cavalry snapped to attention, and with a nod of approval Bryce turned to face his family.

Flying into his arms, heedless of the red steel plate that encase him, the Teyrna pressed a kiss to her husband's cheek and lingered in the circle of his arms wordlessly. It was not the first time Bryce had ridden off to war since they'd gotten married, and if events were unfortunate it would not be the last either. There was nothing she could muster to say that her husband did not already know.

Fergus grinned easily when Eleanor stepped back with a quiet whisper of "Come back to me."

"Not to worry old man." the heir laughed. "I'll be seeing you at Ostagar soon enough."

"Indeed you shall." Bryce replied dryly. "Do try to be mature for once in your life and not make life a living hell for Rendon the whole way down won't you?"

Fergus just smirked, dragging an easy hand through his red hair. "No promises father." Throwing his arm over his mother's shoulders, Fergus pulled the Teyrna along to leave Hadrian and his father standing alone.

Staring at his younger son with an unreadable expression, Bryce stepped forward and dragged the young man into a hug.

"Our legends of the darkspawn are terrible tales of monsters. I plan to come back. But if I can't, you must defend Highever. Protect the people. And protect your mother. We're Couslands son, and we do what must be done."

"Do your best pup." His father ordered in a low voice. "Always remember that you're my boy, and I'm proud of you."

Against his will, Hadrian felt hot tears rise up in his eyes with a feeling of foreboding. He crushed back the urge and replaced it with a bone-crushing embrace. "I know father, I know. I promise."

The two parted as Bryce stepped back with a last smile before turning and swinging himself up on his roan.

"Men of Highever!" the teyrn's voice rose into a commanding shout. "Move out!"

Riding behind his father came Duncan and Ser Gilmore, the Gray Warden's newest recruit. With a wave, the pair departed out the open portcullis after the teyrn.

Hadrian stood at the gate and watched as the troop marched out and over the hills of the Teyrnir until with a last gleam they fell out of sight.

* * *

The first thing Hadrian heard upon stepping into his brother's suite was the high voice of his nephew, thick with childish curiosity.

"Is there really going to be a war Papa? Will you bring me back a sward?"

"That's sword, Oren." Fergus chuckled, kneeling down before his son and scruffing the boy's hair with his hand. "And I'll bring you back the mightiest one that I can find. I promise. And I'll be back before you know it."

"I wish victory was indeed so certain," Oriana cut in tremulously, her cultured Ferelden accent giving way to the rich tones of her homeland of Antiva. "My heart is... disquiet."

Fergus simply shook his head, tossing his dark red hair with a confident smirk. "Oh don't frighten the boy, love. I speak the truth." the Heir to Highever leapt back to his feet and tilted his head towards the doorway. "And here's my little brother skulking about. So dry your eyes, love."

"You two are nauseating me." Hadrian mocked, scratching a shaven cheek. "Should I just wait outside while you two settle your differences with some good ol' kissyface?"

" _Eww_." Oren gagged dramatically, hiding behind his uncle and making retching noises.

Fergus boomed with laughter. "Oh stay you silly fool. And _don't_ think that's an invitation to watch anything." the older brother warned when the younger quirked a coal dark eyebrow.

"As you wish." Hadrian sighed good-naturedly, and the group fell into silence.

"I wish I could go with you." the younger lordling murmured, settling a leather clad hand over his nephew's head.

"I wish you could come." Fergus agreed softly, before smirking. "It'll be tiring killing all those darkspawn by myself."

"Surely your father would not place both his heirs in danger." the Antivan merchant's daughter protested.

Frowning, Fergus shrugged finery clad shoulders, the starched yellow doublet roiling. "Mother and Father have been fighting about it for days really. It's more the pity brother. I could have used you at my side. And if it's any consolation, I will go and freeze in the southern rain and be positively jealous of you warm and safe up here in the Castle."

"Well in that case, it's best that you enjoy your last night here in the castle brother." Hadrian smirked. "Luckily for you, it appears Arl Howe's men are all walking backwards. If not for that you'd already be riding towards your stay in _Chateau de Ostagar_."

Snorting, the Heir turned to face his wife. "Don't look now Oriana, but it seems that the Orlesians left something behind when father chased them out of Highever." Blue-gray eyes danced with mirth as he squinted at Hadrian. "It appears our resident fairy man has forgotten his shimmery hose."

"Oh do shut up." the teyrn's younger son grunted, mussing Oren's hair when the boy giggled.

"I will pray for your safety my son, while you are gone." Eleanor Cousland's voice cut in from behind him as Hadrian's mother entered the room.

"Knowing Butterfingers here, he'll need all the prayers he can get." Hadrian jerked a thumb at his brother, who looked affronted.

"Hey now, I'll have you know I stopped dropping swords when I was _fifteen_. How you can keep going on about that a decade after the fact I'll never know."

"Maker grant our sons and husbands victory in battle, and bring them safely back home when the fighting is done." Oriana trilled, interrupting Fergus.

"Oh aye." the redhaired man cut back in. "Maker grant us ale and some wenches too! For the men of course." Fergus added hurriedly at the twin glares his mother and wife sent him.

"What's a wench?" Oren called quizzically, pulling on his uncle's hand. "Is that what you put on a bucket to get it out of the well?"

Hadrian blinked with amusement. "A wench is a woman that pours the ale in a tavern, Oren." Pursing his lips in thought, the raven added "Or a woman who drinks a lot of ale."

Eleanor hissed "Maker's breath! It's like living with a pack of small boys."

Humming in agreement, Oriana smacked the back of her husband's skull with a fleshy slap.

" _Ouch_." Fergus laughed, before growing somber. "I'll miss you, Mother dear. You'll take care of her, Brother, won't you?"

Hadrian merely shook his head. "Mother can handle herself, always has."

"Well that's true." Eleanor smirked, winking at her second son. "They should be sending me, not you, Fergus."

Rolling blue-gray eyes up to the ceiling, Fergus grunted."Indeed. You'd scold those darkspawn back into the Deep Roads."

Another tug at his hand caught Hadrian's attention, and he crouched down before his nephew.

"Mama says you're going to be watching over us while Papa is gone. Is that true, Uncle?" the young boy's eyes were alight with curiosity.

Pinching the boy's cheek, Hadrian smiled. "Yes, that's true, Oren."

Mischief and longing mixed in Oren's face to give the child an oddly pinched expression. "What if the castle is attacked? Will there be _dragons_?"

"Dragons are terrible creatures, Oren." the Antivan woman scolded. "They _eat_ people."

Oren gave his mother a rapturous expression. " _That's so great_. I want to see one."

Assuming an expression of long-suffering patience, Oriana elbowed her husband in the side. "This is _your_ influence Fergus."

" _What_? I didn't say anything." the boy's father protested.

Growing bored at his parent's byplay, Oren fixed his gaze back on Hadrian. "Are you going to teach me how to use a sword, Uncle? Then I can fight evil too!" he added with excitement after a moment of pause.

Slashing with an imaginary blade, the boy growled. "Take that, dire bunny! All Darkspawn fear my sword of truthiness!"

Hadrian stifled a laugh. "Truthiness?"

Sheeplessly, Oriana set a hand on the boy's head. "Well, we are teaching him about honesty."

"Don't worry son, you'll get to see a sword up close real soon, I promise." Fergus reassured Oren, who looked satisfied.

"Right." Hadrian exclaimed, rising to his feet and stretching labouriously. "It's time for me to be making my way to bed. Long day ahead of me."

"Crawling into bed early are we?" Fergus smirked, auburn stubble bending around his amused mouth.

"Oh I don't mind." the younger brother shot back. "I have someone waiting for me."

The redhead burst out laughing. "What? You _sly_ dog. It's the elven lass that arrived with Lady Landra isn't it? Don't you tell me it isn't." the Heir warned.

Hadrian merely shrugged noncommittally.

* * *

The snarling of a mabari hound and the furious shouts of men drew the pair of lovers from slumber. Rolling to his feet with a groan, Hadrian pulled Iona up out of the bed after him. "What the bleeding hell is that?" the lordling sighed, cracking his back with a twist of the torso.

The pair began to dress with speed, pulling on undergarments even as the barking of his hound cut off with a high pitched whine. Dust swirled from the cracks between the planks of Hadrian's bedroom door as something bashed on it once before all sounds went quiet.

"What is all this noise, my lord?" the elven woman queried nervously.

Thinning his lips, Hadrian pulled on a pair of trousers, hopping to shove both legs into the legging. "Something is wrong." the Teyrn's son hissed.

"I thought I heard snarling and yelling, my lord." Iona muttered, wringing her hands. "But now I hear nothing. I'm going to see if someone's in the hall." the woman decided, striding over to the door in naught but her undergarments.

"No wait!" Hadrian protested, but it was too late.

The door smashed open beneath the steel boot of a man, and the man's partner loosed forth an arrow with a twang that buried itself in the elf's skull. Iona fell, dead before she hit the ground.

It was an unfamiliar feeling of fury and mingled fear that drove Hadrian to dive for his armour stand, whipping his blade from its sheath and pressing a back to the wall. Temporarily out of view of the pair of killers, Hadrian readied the sword.

One of the men cursed and strode in the door openly, turning the corner to be met by a killing thrust from the son of Highever that slid through his neck and severed his spine.

The man collapsed to the floor before Hadrian, who drew a shaky breath at his first kill at swallowed panic. The archer cursed and nocked an arrow, pointing right into the doorway as he waited for the Teyrn's son to emerge.

He did not wait long.

Hadrian charged forth from the doorway, fully armoured and raising a shield to catch the archer's shot before swinging into a vicious backhand that decapitated his opponent. The headless body collapsed, and the raven took the moment to suck in a breath.

Adrenaline ran through his veins, bringing world into crystal clarity. Two more soldiers stood before his mother's door, bashing away at the surface with their shields.

Going in with a cry of " _Highever_!" Hadrian caught on of the men by surprise with a shield rush, crushing the skull between his escutcheon and the stone wall of the castle.

The man's partner gaped for a split second, which was long enough for the lordling to sidestep into the soldier's guard and drive the pommel of his sword into the invader's eyesocket.

Howling in pain, the soldier groped for his face automatically and Hadrian took the opportunity to slide the blade into the man's side under his arm. Blood bubbled from the dying killer's lips as he gave the lordling an incredulous look and died.

 _"Mother!"_ the raven shouted, turning his back to the Teyrna's locked room and scanning the hall for more enemies.

The door slammed open behind him instantly, and Eleanor Cousland stepped forth with an expression of worry. Settling a hand on her dark-haired son's shoulder, the teyrna peered around the room. "Darling, are you hurt? I heard fighting a feared the worse."

Hadrian tossed his mother a look over his shoulder, face splattered with the blood of his first kills. Underneath the crimson fluid a resolute expression looked back at her, gray-blue eyes lit up with cold fury. At that moment, Eleanor saw Bryce Cousland in her son's face.

"I was about to ask you that!" the raven barked at the woman.

Eleanor smiled at her son. "They never got through the door, thanks to you." Anger grew on the grayed woman's face. "A scream woke me up. There were men in the hall, so I barred the door. Did you see their shields?"

Automatically tracing his eyes down, recognition surged in his mind and he muttered in unison with his mother. "Those are Howe's men."

Red hot fury surged in his veins even as Eleanor breathed in question "Why would they attack us?"

"Fucking _Howe_." the Teyrn's son hissed, tightening his grip on his blade. "He's betrayed father! That weasel faced shit! He attacks while our troops are gone!"

"You think Howe's men were delayed on _purpose_? That bastard!" she hissed malevolently. "I'll cut his lying throat myself."

Another scream echoed through the hall, and the pair looked at each other with horror. " _Oriana_!"

"Andraste's mercy." Eleanor murmured behind him as they charged to Fergus' room.

Hadrian didn't slow as he ran up to the door, merely raising his shield and bracing his body. The door gave way easily, locks already broken, and the raven stepped into heartbreak. One of Howe's men lay dead on the floor, a dagger in his throat while the other was just turning at the crash of the door when Hadrian roared and flung his sword across the room. The blade buried itself up to the hilt with strength that he wouldn't have expected, but Hadrian had no eye to spare for Howe's dead man.

Collapsing to his knees beside his sister-in-law's corpse, Hadrian knew from the blood surrounding her she'd perished. With a sob, he closed Oriana's eyelids and hid her blank corpse stare from the world.

"No! My darling Oren!" Eleanor voice was a wail of grief behind him, and the Teyrna growled. "What kind of _monsters_ slaughter innocent women and children?"

Hate and loss bore him up, and the raven hissed. "I'll make them pay!"

Burying her sorrow in hard determination, Eleanor rose to her feet. "Howe's not even taking hostages. He means to kill all of us." Despair broke back in, and she sighed bleakly. "Oh my poor Fergus. Let's go Hadrian, I don't want to see this!"

Four more of Howe's men were waiting for them when the stepped out of the family's inner sanctum. One of them died instantly, an arrow from the Teyrna burying itself in his eye socket. The second died when he charged at Hadrian mother in an attempt to kill the archer that'd ended his comrade and Hadrian plunged his blood covered sword through his stomach.

An arrow dug itself into his shield arm, and with a curse Hadrian brought his shield up to catch the next shot.

Leaning around her bulwark of a son, Eleanor loosed another arrow that sunk into the archer's throat, and the pair turned their attention to the last of Howe's men. The rogue stepped over Bran's body, giving the dead hound a kick for good measure before meeting the lordling in a clash of blades.

Hammering away at Hadrian shield, the soldier felt weakness in his opponent and died with the Teyrna's dagger in the back of his neck before he could press the advantage.

Hadrian pulled the arrow from his flesh with a curse, ignoring the rivulet of blood and swallowing despair as he stepped around his mabari's corpse. The hound's intestines strung out in bloody ropes, and the raven knew the dog was far beyond hope.

"Oh dear Landra." his mother's voice sobbed, drawing his attention from his dead friend and to her dead friend. "If only she hadn't come, if she hadn't been here..." Shaking her head once more, Eleanor pulled the door shut on Landra's body. There would be a time for mourning later.

Charging out into the open air, Hadrian cocked an ear at the distant sound of shouts and the clashing of metal.

"Can you hear the fighting?" the Teyrna breathed as the pair crept along the edge of the wall. Peeking a view around a corner, the woman thinned her lips. "Howe's men must be everywhere."

A curious look at her son revealed mingled emotions and desires she dare not even put a name to in his eyes. Hadrian's nostrils flared as something seemed to crystallize.

"I don't want you in danger, Mother." the Teyrn's son decided firmly. "How do we get out of the castle?"

Eleanor's eyes watered unwilling as she stared back at him. "My only grandson is a cold corpse. I don't care one whit about danger." she murmured thickly before biting a lip. "The front gates! Your brother must be fighting up there!"

"Let's go." he growled, and his mother narrowed her eyes.

"If Howe's men are already in the castle we must use the servants entry in the larder and escape with your brother, do you understand?"

Regarding his mother with a cool blue-gray stare so like Bryce's she shivered, Hadrian nodded. "I hear you."

"Then let us be swift." she declared, and they pushed on through the fire and smoke.

A servant loomed out of the dark, wringing his hands fitfully and casting a nervous stare about. "The castle has fallen!" the man squeaked, eyes growing large as saucers as the Teyrn's second son jogged toward him with a naked blade. "I'm getting out of here!"

"Don't be a coward!" Hadrian snarled, a wild look expression on his face as he continued to pull lead his mother. "Stand and fight!"

"Yes, my Lord." the servant stammered back and pulling a dagger from his belt. A timid glance to the side sent frightened tremors through his limbs. "Here they come!"

Eleanor stepped out boldly, sending an arrow whistling out to crack into one archer's knee. The man collapsed with a howl, and was an easy target for the twitching servant to dart in and slit the man's throat.

The archer's partner was distracted from avenging his partner as the raven Cousland stepped up with a push of his shield, meeting the man with a clash of bucklers that ended when Hadrian lashed out with a booted foot to the soldier's shin.

Taking advantage of the momentary stumble, Hadrian crushed the pommel of his blade into the man's windpipe. Howe's soldier died suffocating on his blood.

There was no time to rest as the trio whirled to sight three of Howe's rogues pressing a Highever guard hard.

The Cousland soldier was just getting ready to meet his Maker when a blade ripped forth from the chest of one of his enemies. Unbelieving of his good fortune, the guard took advantage of the momentary surprise that graced the dead man's comrades and sliced the head off one with a mighty stroke.

Finding the situation reversed as the Cousland guard and his Highever Lordling teamed against him, Rendon Howe's man could only question the intelligence of taking part in the mission before the Teyrna sent an arrow through his panting mouth and out the back of his neck.

Sweat ran down his brow as Hadrian grinned at his mother. Eleanor sniffed primly before cocking a brow. "You know, I was a battle maiden long before I was your father's wife. It's probably what made him want me in the first place, now that I think on it." she mused.

"Where's the Teyrn's other son?" their guardsman cut in, taking in the two of them with an expression of relief. "Does he live?"

A cold wind seemed to rush through Hadrian's chest, freezing him heart with fear. But he only pinned the soldier with a look. "We do not know. Do your best to find him, good man. If we're unmistaken, he's at the front gate."

The guard gave a salute and charged off.

Hadrian turned and ran in the opposite direction, a dark frown on his face.

Following with a blink, the Teyrna shouted over the din of shrieking metal "Where are we going?"

"If the castle is breached." Hadrian grunted, turning a corner. "Then we have something priceless to retrieve before we flee.

"It had better _be_ priceless!" she snapped back.

There was no time for further argument as they were rushed by a pair of mabari, one barreling the trailing servant to the floor and tearing out his throat with a growl. The other died as Hadrian dropped to a knee and braced, letting the hound run right into the tip of his blade.

The living mabari was just lifting its bloody jowls when Eleanor stepped up fearlessly and jammed a dagger through the top of its skull and into its brain.

Fire lanced across Hadrian's brow as an arrow laid open the skin, and blood began to run into this right eye. Half blinded, he still spied a pair of Howe's archers in the distance and one charging warrior. The raven brought up his bulwark to brace, shielding his mother from the line of fire to give her time.

She did not disappoint, yanking her short blade from the mabari's skull and flinging it into the approaching soldier's eye in one smooth motion, Eleanor crouched behind Hadrian and nocked her bow. Two shots in quick succession laid the enemy archers low.

Trained soldier's they might have been, but their few weeks of peasants' sloppy training could not compare to the specialized instruction afforded by the Teyrn's family.

Hadrian sucked in a breath before knuckling the hot blood from his eye and bending down to search the nearest soldier's corpse.

Bodies littered the ground, crimson fluid running into the very stones of Castle Cousland. It still took him three bodies to locate a tiny health poultice. Twisting the cap off the little container, he scooped a thick glop of the magical gel and smeared it over his cut.

It burned as the magically prepared concoction forced his body to heal at a rapid pace, sealing the slash. The small bit of remaining poultice was lathered over his wounded arm. But it was not enough to heal fully, and only shrunk the size of the injury.

Tossing the now empty case on the ground, Hadrian tightened a sweaty palm over the hilt of his sword and continued to pull Eleanor along through the burning fortress.

It became abundantly clear what he was looking for when he turned down a side passage and rammed into a locked door, jiggling the handle furiously.

"The Cousland family treasury." his mother murmured in thought, before digging into the space between her breasts and pulling out an ornate key. "Here darling, take my key."

Hadrian took the proffered small bit of metal and jammed it into the slot, twisting the lock open hurriedly and bursting into the room. It was blessedly empty, and without delay he crossed the room and opened the second locked door.

"The Sword of Highever cannot fall into Howe's hands. I'll use it to cut off his treacherous head!" he muttered, stepping into the treasury and rooting about with a locked weapon stand. Swearing in frustration, he brought his sword down and the padlock and shattered it with one blow before tossing the common blade aside.

Drawing forth the family blade with a nearly reverent gesture, examined the thing nearly in a daze. The ancient blade shone like captured moonlight, silvered edges almost unnaturally sharp. His mother jostled him, drawing his attention away as she pulled the pitted wooden shield from his arm.

The one she pressed into his hands was scarred with the marks of blades. But on the back faintly glowing blue runes revealed the true strength of the bulwark. Teryn Ardal Cousland's shield, struck and scarred from the slices of Orlesian blades as he died defending King Vanedrin to the last.

Holding the shield in his right hand and the blade in his left, Hadrian trembled at the feeling that seized his heart. It was something like dread.

Like fate.

The Arms of the Teyrn.

Shouts drew his attention, and with a scowl at having even this, his family's place invaded, Hadrian stepped forward with new purpose and drove the family sword into the chest of the first man to come before him.

The red steel parted like chess under his thrust, and Hadrian wondered as he stepped to the side and brought a twisting slash against the next leather clad contender if he'd slain some sort of commander.

"Grab some gold mother!" he called out, amputating one of Howe's men at the arm. "Lock the treasury and let's _leave_!

Eleanor hastened to obey him, bustling about and stuffing a sack full of coins before slamming the treasury shut and resetting the lock. Her son had driven the last enemy back out into the burning courtyard, and she took the opportunity to lock the second door. Petty, but even the few hours it would take them to bash down the door were just a few more drops of vindication.

There was no one at the front hall save for their beleaguered men desperately holding off the advance of Howe's troops. The mage lurking by the gate and flinging lightning from her staff was shattering the morale of Highever's last defenders.

It was only natural that Hadrian targeted her first.

Forks of blue electricity forked between them as she noticed his oncoming charge, switching her target from the men at large and focusing solely on the Teyrn's son.

Lightning whipped out at him, ripping along his skin and sending blood leaking from slashes all along his body. He perserved. Ice coated his limbs, muscles stiffening unnaturally and shrieking with the pain. He pushed on. Fire caught on his shield, spraying about and making each breath a hot wuff of agony. He endured.

Uncertainty flickered over the mage's face as he bore down, a scream erupting from his throat to echo about the hall as Hadrian met her with the point of his blade. Her wards buckled seamlessly before the push of the silver sword, and the mage died with a look of incredulity on her face.

Weak cheers filled the air as a few of the men gave the weary raven pats on the back, running past him to press their bodies against the gates of the Castle, trying to buy a precious few more minutes.

"We have to keep those bastards out for as long as we can!" One shouted.

Another peeled away to step before the Teyrna, frowning fiercely. "Oh thank the Maker. I had worried they'd gotten through."

"They did get through." Hadrian hissed in the background as Eleanor stared at the guard.

"Where is Fergus?" she queried. "Where is my son?"

"When I last saw Lord Fergus, he'd been badly wounded." the man answered. "He was determined to find you all and get out of the castle. My Lord and Lady, please flee the castle now. We cannot hold them much longer."

Eleanor protested immediately, but Hadrian siezed her hand. "I won't forget your sacrifice." Hadrian promised, solemnity written in his expression. "Maker watch over you."

Pulling his mother along by the hand, Hadrian fled towards the kitchen.

* * *

It was almost too easy to cut down two of Howe's rogues, permitting another tired soldier to join Highever's defences. The thought was unnecessarily chilling, and Hadrian buried it in his mind for another day.

The last man Hadrian slew that night was one of Howe's knights that had been battered at the door to the larder with a warhammer. The reduced visibility of the knight's visor did not permit him to notice Hadrian until the latter shouted right beside him "I'll run you through!" And brought his gleaming blade down at the man's elbow.

The plate armor crunched beneath the blow, but did not give way, and Hadrian was unprepared as the warhammer came swinging around. Tumbling to the ground at a push from behind, the second son was never so ill as he felt when his mother screamed with a crack of bone.

Hate roiled in his veins, and without even rising Hadrian drove the point of his blade through the groin of Howe's knight. The man shrieked and collapsed writhing, but the raven spared no thought for him.

Sheathing the blooded blade, Hadrian knelt beside Eleanor and lifted her gasping form into his arms.

" _Fergus_!"

He howled, and the door instantly clicked open.

Nearly tripping over his brother's shivering form, Hadrian gaped with horror at the pool of blood surrounding his elder sibling.

"There you both are." the man gasped, holding a hand over a seeping red stain. "I was wondering when you would get here." Fergus' smile was redder than his hair had ever been. "Almost got myself done in waiting."

"I'll kill Howe for what he's done." Hadrian swore furiously.

A splatter of blood launched from Fergus' mouth to stain the floor further. "You _can't_! You must get away! Get to Father... to the King."

Kicking open the hatch door hidden behind a crate, Hadrian tightening trembling arms around his gasping mother. "Come on you bloody fool! Let's get you out of here."

"I won't survive standing." Fergus denied, staring at his younger sibling mournfully.

"Then we'll have to drag you out." the second son hissed, nerves reaching the end of their patience.

"Only if you're willing to leave pieces of me behind brother." Red hair shook. "Someone must get to father... tell him what has happened."

Despair was a rising tide in him, and Hadrian couldn't deny reality any longer.

"And take _vengeance_." Hadrian promised quietly. "Be at peace, my brother."

Fergus smiled at his brother as he watched the young man stepped down into the hatch, disappearing into the dark and pulling the lid shut after him. And died.

Down into the deep dark Hadrian stepped, sightless as a newborn bat. Yet he did not falter as the ground grew rough beneath him and his uneven steps threatened to upend him and his heaven burden. The sound of waves grew near, rushing closer and closer with the rich scent of salt and the breeze of the midnight sea.

Eleanor lay still in his arms, drawing in one last gurgling breath and raising a chilled hand to cup her son's cheek. She could no longer see him in the dark, but she could feel him. And Eleanor took that last chance to memorize her son. So like her's. So like Bryce.

Shaven cheeks wet with running tears and the stickiness of dried blood. High aristocratic cheekbones and coal dark brows. A shoulder length mane of spun midnight.

A wistful smile curled the Teyrna's lips, and her fingers hushed his lips with a touch. "Maker watch over you, my son." She whispered, and went still. Her arm dropped limply into her lap, and her only living child sobbed brokenly.

Hadrian stepped out into the void and tumbled, empty air whistling about him as he clutched at his precious load. A rough scrap of rock tore his mother's body from his arms, and the Teyrn's son gasped in pain as a lance of stone sliced through his leather padding and laid his ribs open to the bone.

He hit the water with a splash, mouth filling with copper blood as he bit the inside of his cheek and seawater before a wave heaved and threw his tired body back to shore. Hadrian hit the sand with a thump, laying bonelessly on the beach as the waves gently bore his mother's corpse to the dirt next to him.

Hadrian had fought through the castle like a man possessed, cutting down man after man in his push to survive and save his family. He'd survived, and all of the people he'd loved had died in a mockery of everything he'd ever wanted.

He'd been a man long enough, pushing through his burning home as his people died around him.

He could afford to be a child one last time, and weep bitterly into the sand. Wailing and screaming until with a last choking whimper he passed out just before the dawn.

Just after the dawn plate boots crunched the sand around his unconscious body and his mother's corpse, and mailed hands bore him up.


End file.
